Silence
by Lena Ban Obsidian
Summary: Ch. 4 up-- After 'Watch Yourself, Little One', life proceeds as though unchanged...
1. Prologue

**_Silence_**

Author's Notes: Not to plug myself, but if you haven't read _Watch Yourself, Little One_, a lot of this story will be a complete mystery to you. ^^' Just warning y'all. 

**Prologue**  
_-- a candle always burns brightest before it goes out --_

-------------------------------------------- 

A once peaceful forest erupted with a sudden, sporadic blast of lightning. Leena crowed victory as one of the many bulbs fell to her ElectroJolt, down for the count. Glenn offered her a look that suggested she suffered of insanity, but said nothing; Serge half-smiled and prepared to finish the job. 

Annoying bulbs. When would they ever learn? Might as well use X Strike, since neither he nor Glenn had any yellow elements to speak of. The wash of elemental energy created a bit of a rush, and when they'd finished, the bulbs were burned to crisps. They collected the spoils with smug grins on their faces, all too aware of how easy that had been. Sure, it was rewarding when you took down enemies that were huge and scary, but there was a certain pleasure to be found in being to defeat a pack of five bulbs without ever breaking a sweat. 

Leena gleefully gathered up an Aerosaucer or two and added them to her belt-pouch collection. Glenn, still smiling- rare, for that particular fellow- sheathed his heavy bronze sword. "Shall we go?" 

The rest of the forest seemed quite happy to leave them alone, and they merrily walked free of the brambles and bushes, pausing once they could see the open sky again. Foremost in the travelers' minds was the question of where to go now-- and whether to proceed just yet. With the sun hanging low in the sky, it didn't seem very wise to go marching around aimlessly through all of El Nido. Maybe the bulbs hadn't really taken it out of them, but a lot of little battles did just as much to wear one out as one big one. 

"So, where to, blue-bangs?" Cocking an irritated eyebrow at his red-haired companion, Serge shrugged. "Oh, come on, there must be someplace you want to go." 

"Perhaps we should set up camp," Glenn suggested lightly. 

Leena grumbled under her breath about lazy men and kicked at the dirt, waiting to hear Serge's answer. A few languid moments passed while she examined her feet, still waiting, the sun dropping just beneath the horizon, transforming butter-yellow light to a red pastel. Finally, she grew irritated with the silence and looked up, a little cranky, prepared to give their stoic leader the scolding of his lifetime. Glenn seemed to have just decided to press for an answer as well, for it was with equal shock that the two of them watched a too-pale Serge stumble backwards, too off-balance to keep his feet. 

"Serge?" 

"Are you all right?" 

Blinking slowly, he peered at them through his bangs in confusion: 'No...I don't think so...' and fell in a dead faint to the ground. 


	2. chapter one

**_Silence_**

**Chapter One**  
_-- spiritually it isn't healthy to kill yourself --_

--------------------------------------------------------- 

Molasses. It was like being covered in a thick layer of molasses. 

He wasn't really sure if his eyes would open, but he decided it was worth trying. At first, it even seemed he would be successful-- until actual motion was accomplished. Pain throbbed through his skull, especially sharp behind his eyes. Hmm. Migraine. Not good idea to open eyes. 

He settled for listening instead. No sounds of the ocean, but the definite cool of night air. Light breezes stirred the leaves of trees not too far away, and if he wasn't mistaken, the low murmur of two sleepy voices in the background. 

Leena...and Glenn. "Do you think he'll be all right?" 

Rustling. Sleeping bag? Probably. "I do not know." 

Stillness reigned for a peaceful second, and the rustling trees could just as easily have been the only things alive in the entire world. Leena sighed softly. "Sometimes I wonder what the other world must be like." He wanted to tell her that it wasn't all that bad, but he didn't dare try speaking. And it would probably make the headache worse. "I imagine it's all right. I mean, Serge seems nice enough." 

Glenn chuckled softly. "When he is not defeating monsters or spending time with other women in our group, you mean?" He would almost have smiled at the sound of Leena smacking the blond knight's shoulder. "He is nice," Glenn agreed quietly, a smile in his voice. "And that is why we are helping him." 

More silence. In a way, he assumed he still wasn't all the way conscious; he drifted a bit, swimming in his little prison of fatigued molasses and migraines and wondering why he was so tired. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten; since Kid had gotten sick, both he and Glenn had been pushing themselves to the limit trying to discover the undiscoverable cure and save her. It had been true that he didn't know what to do to help, but Korcha's accusations had stuck with him. 

_So_, he realized, _I probably haven't been sleeping as much as I think I have. We hadn't set up camp for probably four days before this, and we've been fighting pretty much anything that came our way._ That was certainly ample enough explanation for the exhaustion, and probably the headache... 

"Glenn?" A muffled noise answered her. "Do you think the other world is a nice place?" Louder, a little annoyed, a second groan answered. 

"I thought we had determined that Serge was nice." 

Leena should have laughed, but she didn't. There was a quiet sort of worry in her voice that made him listen harder. "Not Serge, the other world...I mean, well...doesn't he always seem kind of..." 

"Afraid," Glenn answered meditatively. "Yes, it's a little strange, isn't it?" 

"Yes!" It sounded like Leena was biting her lip. His head hurt. "Yes. But why? You'd think he'd tell us if something weird had happened here..." 

That shifting again. It sounded too much like crackling leaves to be a sleeping bag. Were they sleeping on bare ground? Glenn's voice had gotten dark, serious. "What you are suggesting...is that something might have happened to him in his home world?" A heavy sigh, laden with a little exhausted confusion. "But what? He is not the type to get into serious trouble on his own, I think." Maybe they had a Cure or some other element that would make his head stop hurting... 

Maybe if he tried opening his eyes again. 

Swimming up through the molasses. Yes. All he had to do was force his eyes open and then he could tell them that his head felt like it was about to crack open and that something strange really had happened in his home world-- and he really wanted to tell them about it. Success drew closer, near enough to see a sliver of light, and then the pain exploded, fire and thunder in his skull, sending his hands clumsily up to clutch at his head while he curled up into a ball, whimpering. 

Glenn and Leena materialized at his side, worried. "Serge? Are you all right?" Sound made it worse; he moaned, digging fingers deep into his hair. They exchanged words that he couldn't understand through the fog of blinding pain, and a wash of something cool and heady suddenly forced it to recede. 

A CurePlus. Thank the Dragon Gods. 

"Is that better?" Weakly, he nodded, accepting their help and sitting slowly up. The headache was still there, just not as bad. "What's the matter, got a headache?" 

"You could say that," he rasped. "How long was I...?" 

"A few hours," Glenn replied non-chalantly, as if his friends woke up crying in pain every day. Leena still looked worried, but he knew they wouldn't say anything if he didn't mention it. He toyed with that notion a moment, and decided to smile his gratitude. 

They watched him closely as he palmed his eyes, still tired, a little unnerved by the burn of their wary gaze. "I guess we could go to Termina..." 

"What!?" He cringed away from the intensity of Leena's glare, torn between laughing and being very, very afraid. "Are you kidding? You're in no shape to go anywhere without getting some damn sleep! And as for Glenn and I, we'd rather have the chance to rest up than spend the night fighting piddling little monsters just so we can do more of the same tomorrow when you change your mind!" 

He blinked, still a little too tired to quite figure if she was truly upset or just taking control. Glenn clarified things by making him lie back down and shaking his head, amused. "Try again when you do not look like you have been dragged through nine hells. She might change her mind." A little surprised, but too tired to argue, he acquiesced and tried to sink back into dreamless sleep. 


	3. a dream

**_Silence_**

_~(a dream)~_

* * *

Nothing surrounded on all sides, massive, powerful, dangerous, frightening... 

_SILENCE!_

Serge screamed, convulsed, went still, was silent. The menace of the nothingness seemed to fade, like darkness giving way to pre-dawn. _It hurts,_ he thought he whispered. _Please, stop..._

_It will destroy you._

He could...god, he could _feel_ it: clammy cold hands. Dead skin. Cadaverous, rotting, half-preserved, brown-aged skin, clamping tight around his throat. He couldn't breathe. _Stop..._ He choked. _Don't..._

I _will destroy you._

Breathing was far beyond him. He was still alive, certainly, but he wasn't breathing-- just watching, while those strange undead hands, cool mist, substantial but having no real substance, crushed the cartillage that housed his voice. But if it had done what it felt as though it had done... 

_Be quiet, Serge._

How could he be screaming? _HELP! HELP ME! Someone...ANYONE! Please..._ Because he was most definitely screaming, breath or no, voice or no. 

_Just be quiet._

Perhaps he wasn't actually making any noise? Sometime in between being grabbed and being crushed, he'd failed to notice as the light grew brilliant, almost blinding all around. Where were they? He screamed as hard as he could, it felt like his throat was going raw. _Somebody help! Let me go, dammit, help! Help! HELP!_

But there really wasn't any sound, here. None at all. The light began to fade again while he shrilled, panicked, as loudly as he could, and never made a sound. 

_Stop it._

To his own great shame, the helplessness, being clutched there in the middle of the nothingness by dead hands that smelled of mint and preservation, finally broke down his pleas into weeping. He sobbed and begged, and pride be damned, but the hands still would not let him go. 

_Stop._

Time froze. 

Everything stopped. 

Nothing. Not even darkness. 


	4. chapter two

**_Silence_**

**Chapter Two**  
_-- the answer is always in a place you'd rather not go --_

* * *

Awake: sounds of morning (mourning? odd...) and the smell of damp soil. They were still at the edge of the forest, though far enough away from it not to be disturbed by its alluring enchanted melody. He was short of breath, but couldn't figure out why-- perhaps a dream (yes, yes, just a dream) was the cause. Oh well. It was nice to be awake early, for once. 

Glenn was snoring loudly nearby. He smiled. It had to be Glenn, of course, because no one else that he knew was quite so noisy a sleeper. Just lucky that he could have slept through an earthquake, otherwise he'd be more deprived of rest than was manageable. Stretching, popping a few joints, he peered around in the slight fog of early dew-spun dawn time, looking for Leena. She, quite to her misfortune, was an extremely light sleeper and had never particularly enjoyed being dragged along when Glenn was involved, for precisely that reason. 

As he'd suspected, her head was smushed beneath two make-shift pillows. Poor Leena. 

Well, she needed to go back to Arni anyway. The kids were probably missing her, and it wouldn't be fair to subject her to Glenn's snoring for any longer than absolutely necessary. He almost laughed. Ah, the joy of responsibility... 

Speaking of which, if he was going to send her off, there was the decision of who to bring back into the party. Macha would be a welcome addition, but she'd been fighting alongside them just before Leena. Come to think of it, Nikki had been mysteriously 'missing' since they'd dropped him off in Termina. Maybe Leena could track him down. That'd at least keep her from arguing with him about being sent off-- he hoped. 

It seemed the headache was gone, too... "I'm going to kill him." Blinking and trying not to panic, he whirled back to stare in shock at Leena. She appeared to be half-awake, and all zombie. "I didn't sleep at all." 

"Um, Leena, look...don't kill him, just...wake him up!" 

She smirked a bit. "You mean, cast a nice little AquaBall on him or something?" 

As he had no real experience with dangerously sleep-deprived girls, he only nodded. The Leena he knew was never so vengeful-- of course, he'd never seen the other Leena short several days' sleep... 

"Fine." 

Glenn let loose a loud 'snkark'. 

Leena concentrated. 

Spluttering, the Dragoon leapt to his feet and unsheathed his sword in one swift motion. "What? Where? Danger?" Serge found himself laughing too hard to breathe, and doubled over, still chuckling. Glenn blinked owlishly at them, and Leena only 'hmphed' and sat firmly down on the ground, arms crossed over her chest. "What was that for?" Glenn whined. 

"Me sleep. You no snore." Leena laid down. 

A slight breeze blew away the last of the morning haze as the blond Dragoon shrugged, muttering something about not understanding women, and sheathed his sword again. "Are you feeling better this morning?" 

"Yeah." He tried a cheerful smile, but it didn't feel right on his face. "Just needed some rest." Soft, a little sigh escaped him (or something deeper inside of him?). He was itching to explore someplace new and see if maybe there, maybe in that place he hadn't found, the answer to Kid's sickness would be waiting. And then maybe he wouldn't feel quite so helpless-- or so soulless. 

Maybe Korcha wouldn't make the effort to shake his confidence again. It wasn't really strong enough to survive such treatment. 

"What shall we do now? Last night you mentioned Termina..." 

He shrugged. Honestly, a day spent thinking about their situation as it stood would probably be of greater benefit. It was just damn irritating, that he never had the courage to say what was bothering him until he was too incapacitated to say anything aloud. Warmth. 

"Listen, Serge." The hand on his shoulder was connected to an arm; the arm to Glenn; Glenn to the voice. He bit his lip. Confrontations. He wasn't good at them. "I know you are worried. What I do not know is what you are worried about. You cannot allow it to keep you from telling us what is going on." Concern? (condemnation) Over what, he wondered, and shrugged again. 

"I'm just not sure where to go." 

He looked up into the scarred-stern face of his friend, and knew that neither of them believed those words. "We haven't been to Mount Pyre," Glenn offered politely, once again sparing him the difficult task of explaining. Thank...thank whatever Dragon it was who granted that much. If there had been someone demanding explanations... 

From the ground, there drifted an annoyed voice. "There's a fog over the bay surrounding Mount Pyre. Forget it." 

Leena glared up at them through one eye, frowning, still quite obviously awake. Serge sheepish looked around for escape from the impending tantrum-- there was sure to be one, she was tired, cranky, and staring at the source of her troubles-- only to find Glenn doing the same. Wouldn't do to have both of them running like foolish ninnies when she'd only track them down and give them hell later. "We could navigate the fog," Glenn finally sighed, coming to the same conclusion. 

Shrugging, the girl rolled over on her side. "Fine, but I'm not going to get involved with it. Send me back to Arni. I'll grab Nikki and tell him to meet you here." They looked helplessly at each other. 

What to say? "We need to go to Termina as well. We do not intend to abandon you, Leena." 

Leena didn't say anything. Serge didn't either. Did he really want to go blind into a thick fog, when they could easily be killed by any number of accidents? Squalls, predators in the water, hidden armies of ships, coral and sharp rocks waiting to beach ships as much as a mile away from a coast line-- no, he didn't really relish the idea of giving in to possibilities like that. 

Sighing, she finally sat up again. "Fine." She didn't look pleased with the decision, but knowing her, she wasn't going to stop them from getting into trouble. Serge figured she would make an excellent mother some day; her children would certainly never be naive. "Termina's not too far. I can wait to sleep until then." 

* * *

Notes: ^_^;; All right, all right, I get it, I'm not the most dependable author in the world. I actually have planned this one out as far as I can (it sort of loosely follows the game plot-- to a point) so you won't have to worry about a lack of continuity for a little while. 

I know the chapters are uncharacteristically short right now, but if I make 'em too long, the sheer size of the fic will make anyone who sees it cringe. ;_; I don't want to do that! 

Thanks for the reviews...*falls over* but, Tami...they always attack you. You have to run from them all over if you don't just kill 'em and get 'em out of your way! 

^o^; Anywho. Hope you enjoyed chapter two. *grin* 

=Lena=   
(everyone signs like I do, so I'm trying this to be different...whee! ^^') 


	5. chapter three

**_Silence_**

**Chapter three**  
  
_--Good intentions and bad omens--_

Nikki glanced back at him again, discreetly, and frowned. He half-noticed in a distracted fashion, but was far too busy with yawning to really care either way. Yes, he was tired. No, he wasn't sleeping. And he wasn't very happy with the mist either. It made him sleepier, and Glenn unbelievably edgy. Nikki was probably the only one of the three of them who cared at all for this weather, and then, it was just his overblown sense of drama, no doubt. 

Just as the subject of his thoughts was about to open his painted lips to say something, a particularly brutal wave brought them almost to a stop. "Wha-?" He half-mumbled. Nikki and Glenn, both much more alert, peered out into the thin mists. 

"Looks like a ship," Nikki commented, sounding rather more surprised than Serge thought the situation merited. They were on the ocean. And there was a boat. Wow. What amazing coincidence. 

"A ghost ship?" Glenn answered, more confused than afraid. 

"It certainly doesn't look like a ghost ship," Nikki sniffed in disdain. They both looked at him, and all he could offer was a helpless shrug. Unfortunately, he wasn't a master of 'mist-boat' etiquette. 

His companions took one look at him, and then turned to each other, deciding what to do. It was just as well; he moved in a daze, following them over to the larger vessel and coming to a sea-sick stop once they'd made it. He didn't even really notice the pirates surrounding them, or hear what their leader said. Three battles passed him without breaking him free from the grip of his nausea, and just as the black-haired pirate captain fell to one knee, almost defeated, the last of his strength fled him. 

"Serge?" Glenn's voice was distant, a thing that could not touch him. 

He fell, and kept falling long after he'd lost consciousness, into a place where finally, he could rest. 

* * *

Nikki struggled up from under the sack of grain he had somehow gotten stuck under. Across the little room, Glenn was awakening as well, a little confused but mostly annoyed. Nikki could sympathize. They'd been tricked and taken hostage, and he hadn't been inclined to think well of pirates to begin with. Blowing up a few strands of unruly blonde hair, his companion in captivity sent him a slightly amused look. 

"Kind of stuck there, are you?" 

He glanced back at where his legs should have been, and noted that the pressure he felt was the fault of two very large sacks of rice. Sacks which he likely had no way to remove from his person. Casting a wry look back at Glenn, he replied with a smirk, "No, this is the part where I do my magic trick and turn into a bird that can fly away." 

Glenn shook his head, chuckling. "Let me help." 

Several minutes and one great expense of energy later, they turned about to search for their supposed leader. It was easy enough to find him, sprawled out on the floor, skin a shade too gray to be called healthy and sweat beading on his brow. But at the very least, he looked to be sleeping; when he'd collapsed, there hadn't been a chance to worry, but Nikki was certain that that pirate Fargo hadn't once touched Serge with the 'jellyfish stingers' that had knocked both himself and Glenn out for the count. 

Which meant Serge was exhausted, not drugged. And that was worse. 

"So, how are we planning to get out of here?" Glenn wondered quietly, walking over to the window and peeking out in curiosity. The portal revealed little, other than the fact that it was nighttime. The expression on his face was unreadable, but the tone of his voice reflected Nikki's feelings. "I don't think Serge is going to be better any time soon. He hasn't eaten anything more solid than a handful of breadcrumbs in the past week." 

"He did say he got seasick pretty easily," Nikki offered. 

The other man arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh? And how likely is that? He grew up in a fishing town, and I'm sure he's been around boats and the water all his life. He doesn't want to tell us something, and he's starving himself over it." 

What to say to that? He looked back at the blue-haired boy, lying prone on the floor, untouched perhaps because they feared they would wake him. He wanted to defend his friend (hah, friend...imagine that, I actually have _friends_ for the first time in my life...), but he didn't know how to do it. "...I guess we'll have to fight our way out." 

A nod; Glenn had been expecting as much. "The question is, will he be able to help?" Regret, fleetingly, passed over the Dragoon's face. Glenn disliked the idea of treating Serge like a liability as much as he did, but there was no help for it. 

"I don't think so. He was having trouble using that damn swallow of his to block, Glenn. He was shaking. He needs help." 

Serge chose that moment to groan and pull himself up, each movement defined by aches they knew he was hiding. They traded chagrined looks and moved to help him the rest of the way to his feet-- too late, of course-- and tried not to look too worried as he smiled weakly at each of them. "What happened?" soft tenor sounds broke the silence, just barely, a moth fighting through tissue paper to surface. 

"The pirates drugged us, but beyond that, we're not sure. We just woke up." 

Glenn, still at the window, happened to notice a shift in the faint light. "Both of you, come look. Something is happening." Serge half-stumbled over, shoulder bumping with a loud thud into the wall he somehow couldn't avoid. They said nothing, but watched him as carefully as was possible without giving their concern away. 

Outside, the world was nothing but swirling mists and a vague sense of _wrongness_ that made Serge shudder at the familiarity. From the way the others were looking at him, he was the only one particularly disturbed by what he'd seen. Maybe explaining what had happened would help. He wanted to explain; needed it. _And maybe...maybe it can't kill me if I tell them about it. Maybe it'll all turn out to be a silly dream, once somebody else knows._ "Um...there's...there's something I--" 

The door slammed open, revealing a little army of skeletons. Walking, creaking, clanking skeletons. Glenn froze beside him, Nikki slipped into a battle crouch, and he wondered distantly if the terrible thing inside of him was really as powerful as it seemed. Had it summoned the skeletons to shut him up? 

They slid into defensive positions, prepared for battle, before he was able to finish that thought. 


	6. chapter four

**_Silence_**

**Chapter four**  
  
_--too little sunlight also wilts flowers --_

Unfortunately for the ghosts, they had never encountered anyone with such purpose. These men, each of whom desperately needed to _live_, had more power than all of the ghost crew combined. Simple slashes of sword took down half of them, blasts of energy from a guitar took the rest. Not even one element was used from the powerful collection they were keeping; not once did the third man ever need to lift a finger to help his comrades. 

This was all that the skeletons and ghosts were able to determine before they were systematically eliminated from the world of the living, once and for all. 

Fargo was more than happy to see them on the main deck; Nikki wryly wondered why. "Ahoy there! Yer name's Serge, is it? Take the wheel!" The two of them darted nervous looks at Serge, who nodded dully and attempted to do so. "Keep yer head up there, lad! It's coming!" 

'It' proved to be a slug-monster formed by several of the smaller and somewhat disgusting 'Dedheads'. Glenn shuddered mentally, remembering the less than pleasant encounters with the creatures, even as he drew his sword. Serge swayed on his feet, but brought the swallow up to block nonetheless. 

"Serge, just defend yourself, all right?" he finally offered, knowing that the effort of actually fighting would probably take all the energy the boy had. Nikki looked over, enigmatic, and nodded. To their surprise, Serge did as he was told. 

Glenn took the lead, Nikki trying to follow without leaving Serge open to attack. The slug-monster wasn't very mobile, and Glenn was moving faster than he ever had before. It took the slashes in the manner of a punching bag, and Nikki's musical attacks seemed to stun it. They came away from the battle victorious; covered in slime, and tired, but victorious. 

Serge looked like he was going to fall flat on his face again. 

Fargo either was too busy to see, or didn't particularly care, as he warned them of the dangers that would be waiting for them if they went to Mount Pyre. They didn't give Water Dragon Isle a second thought when he mentioned it, trading worried looks and trying to figure out a way to get Serge to sleep. He was a stubborn sort, not one to acknowledge his needs, and there was little they'd be able to do to persuade him to act practically. 

To Glenn's immense surprise and relief, it was Serge who spoke first when they returned to the boat Korcha's mother had loaned them. "Maybe we should go to Water Dragon Isle, after we rest up in Arni. We haven't checked there. The Water Dragon might..." his voice faltered, eyes glazing momentarily. "might be able to help...Kid..." 

"So we spend the night in Arni?" Nikki offered quietly, while Glenn kept a scrutinizing eye on their leader. Serge only nodded, and then sat still and quiet, half of him draped on the edge of the boat, eyes staring out into the water. 

It wasn't long at all before he fell asleep. 

Nikki hazarded a look at Glenn, and snorted in disgust. "More like we should spend a week there, and tie him to a blasted pole if he tries to argue." 

A wry grin curved the Dragoon's lips. "You certainly have a flair for the dramatic." 

"I'm serious!" Nikki's eyes were fierce, his mouth set in a frown. It was surprising to really look at him, Glenn realized, and see him for who he was, not what he tried to be. The man was very loyal to his friends-- what friends he had-- and honestly passionate. Not something he expected to see in a popular performer, not at all, and perhaps that was what made the sincerity so much more convincing. 

Especially for a confused young Dragoon. "I know you are," he temporized, sighing. "But until we help Kid, he'll use the fact that she's sick as a excuse to ignore his own needs." 

Nikki bristled at the mention of her. "She deserved it, I say." 

"Did she?" Troubled, Glenn looked from his sleeping companion to the waking one, and then shook his head. "She wasn't going to hurt Miss Riddel, that much I know. And you know that saying..." 

The singer's face slipped into a scowl. " 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend', you mean? Not her." He harrumphed. "I don't like her. There's something...shifty about her. And we know she's a thief." 

A little puzzled, Glenn sat back, bracing himself on his hands, and cocked his head in query. "So?" 

"What we don't know is what else she is. She isn't too young to be worse; a spy from Porre, for example, or an assassin. She's with the Radical Dreamers, isn't she? They don't take prisoners, or so I've heard." Nikki's eyes were hard, his face sober and serious. "They've little to no mercy, and frankly, that Miss Riddel of yours had less than all of her wits about her at the time in question, so I shouldn't be surprised if she just didn't want you to hurt the girl for making such a grievous error when there was no real harm done." 

One eyebrow rising, he pointed out crossly, "She protected Miss Riddel from the poison that is affecting her now. Lynx wouldn't have hesitated to kill Miss Riddel, if that was what it took to get to the girl." 

Nikki was silent, contemplating, eyes on the horizon, watching for Arni's outline. 

* * *

Orlha chewed nervously on the inside of her lip, glancing in the general direction of the docks, rubbing her towel over a mug that had been dried a hundred strokes before. Those that were up this late to drink shook their heads and all nodded wisely to each other at intermittent intervals. They knew what troubled her. Any pretty young soul without love would have been suspicious to them; they were the swarthiest of sailors, Guldove's finest traders and guides-for-hire, and as any man of the trade knew, only love could make a pretty lady look so sad. 

A stranger entered the bar around eleven, and sat down quietly, ordering a single glass of ale. For all her anxiety, Orlha was still quick to serve, which the onlookers nodded in approval of. A business woman, if a bit love-sick. Only too bad they didn't know who she was longing after; they were most of them about ready to go track the lad down and talk some sense into him. Wasn't right of the fellow to keep poor Orlha waiting. 

She really was such a sweet girl. 

"When does the bar close, ma'am?" Queried the stranger in soft tones, the twist of an unfamiliar accent making the sentence seem musical. 

"Half-past midnight," she replied, listless, eyes on the door. 

The stranger nodded, and was still afterward, moving only to take tiny sips from the drink he'd ordered. There was some speculation of him by the other patrons, observing the odd cut of his clothes and the lilt in his voice, which they'd only heard the once. Theories abounded by the time the bar closed, and Orlha ordered them to leave. 

Some said he must be from Porre. Others were certain it was Guardia. 

He remained unnoticed at the bar after Orlha had quietly put up her closed sign and begun sweeping the mess of the day from her floor. When she was about halfway finished with the shore, he turned, sharp eyes locking on her, and spoke again, voice much stronger, louder than it had been. "You seem to be in distress, ma'am." 

She gave a start, and stared at him in surprise. "B-bar's closed," she breathed, the broom held loose in her hands. 

Though not menacing, he seemed to have a sense of power about him. He smiled, gentle, and shook his head. "I'm not interested in the drinks. What's troubling you?" 

Orlha frowned. She was not the sort to let flirting get to her head, and she couldn't imagine that the man didn't already know as much. She resolved that if he took a step nearer, she'd show him what for, and make _him_ pay the damages. "Get out, stranger. The bar's closed. If you're after a good time, it's not here." 

Those intense, deep eyes closed a moment, and he sighed. "Listen. I want to help you." A hand raised to forestall her response. "That's what I _do_, ma'am, I help people. It's like a job. I don't want money for it. I just want to help." He smiled shyly. "Won't you let me help you, ma'am?" 

Something about the way he spoke, or about him, kept her from unleashing her fury on him. He seemed honest enough. And she did so want to talk about the problems weighing on her heart. "The name's Orlha," she offered. "My friend's in a bit of depression right now, is all." 

The stranger leaned forward, coppery locks of hair falling into his eyes. "Oh?" 

She shrugged. "He's a doctor. We've a girl here who's been poisoned, and we need one of the humors from a Hydra to cure her. Problem is, the species is extinct. And Doc's blaming himself because he doesn't know what to do." Sighing, she returned to her chore. "I wish I could help him help her. If there were any Hydras left, I could probably go take one on myself, but..." Her helplessness seemed clear enough that she didn't have to say it aloud. Instead she swept, and listened. Something about the man interested her. She wasn't exactly sure what kind of response he had waiting. 

"I happen to be a traveler, in my own manner," said the man slowly, his eyes twinkling. "I'll look through the things I've collected over time and see if I can't find something that might help." 

Before she could decided if she believed him or not, he left. 

Shaking her head, Orlha sighed and finished sweeping with a flourish. The bar looked oddly lonely with the harsh candles lit. She blew them out one by one and settled down on her couch before the fire to sleep. 


	7. a nightmare

**_Silence_**

_~(a nightmare)~_

* * *

It was infinitely worse to be awake, he decided, than it was to be here. 

Here the dangers, the menace, was clear, substantial, easy to believe in. When he struggled through the waking world, it was hard to tell which aspects of his life were dream and fantasy, and which the cruel truth. Was he really dead in the other world? Was the monster real or just a figment of his imagination? Was he mad? 

He thought he might be. The hands were not hurting him now, but stroking his face and embracing him about legs and chest, perhaps trying to reassure him. He shuddered in revulsion at the thick minty scent of them, at the feel of their rot on him, but he didn't make a sound, for fear of the overpowering _thing_ that was at the heart of this. 

The nothing surrounding them was bright still, like a summer day without land or sky to quantify it. 

Like drowning in the sea. 

_I will never drown you,_ answered the Voice candidly. _You cannot drown to begin with. That is not what you are._

He was confused and curious, but too afraid to ask what the monster meant. One of the myriad hands drew soft claws over his cheek in reproach, and he bit his tongue, closed his eyes, trying to deny the sensation and the chills it sent through him. 

_We are closer now. You may speak, if you wish._

Gathering up what courage he could, he took a deep breath to speak. Before he quite knew what was happening, seven or eight of the creature's appendages slapped over his mouth in warning. 

Oh yes; not aloud. Now he remembered. _What...am...I?_ he attempted slowly, uncertain if he was communicating or thinking. Perhaps, here in this half-world, they were the same thing. 

_You are as I am,_ answered the monster matter-of-factly. _When you are_ where_ I am, you may talk to me freely._

His brow furrowed. The hands over his mouth remained, though not so much to gag him as to touch him. He got the unpleasant feeling that the creature liked very much to feel him, the texture of his skin and the shape of his form. As much as he disliked the feel of its hands on him. _What do you...want...from me? Why have you..._ He faltered, fearing that too many question would anger the Voice. _Why were you hurting me?_

From the odd void around them, he somehow got the impression that they were moving now, to a new place. If he focused his eyes on a single spot around him, it seemed he could almost make out scenery, fleeting and multi-colored, flashing past them. But where were they going? 

_I want you to fix this,_ the Voice said simply, as the nothing gave way to a terrible vision. 

The fire burned high and hungry, powered by oil, dry wood, and the bodies of so many animals that the air was rank with their roasting scent. Screams filled the air, vying with the roar of flames for supremacy, while destruction rained down in the form of bullets, cannonballs and flaming arrows. Soldiers, men and women alike, in dark uniform, marched across the conquered territory, destroying all that they touched. He cringed at the merciless determination in their eyes, and suddenly the horror faded away. Again, there was absolute darkness. 

Swallowing a lump of fear in his throat, he queried weakly, _What is that?_

It was as though the Voice shrugged. The hands paused in their exploration of his mouth. 

_That is mankind. That is the above world. I like to see it grow._ In a reflection of their owner's anger, the hands tightened briefly, the ragged claws snagging on his skin. _When it burns, I can feel...my children. Dying._

Brief rage flared, overcoming him and the nothing and the Voice at the same time. He tensed, as if to attack, while the hands clutched convulsively at him, cutting, piercing, making him bleed by what seemed accident. 

_You're hurting me,_ he gasped in the thought-words that it allowed him, the rage fading to weariness. He was always hurting now. He was very sick of hurting. To his surprise, the hands withdrew their claws at once and stroked at the newly-made wounds apologetically. Though this did nothing to ease the pain, he realized of a sudden that he was no longer afraid. 

_I want you to stop that from happening,_ the Voice murmured. _You are what I cannot be, sometimes, and that is why you are here._

He meant to ask more, but the weariness was slurring even his thoughts into an unrecognizable chaos. The hands pet him gently as he fell into sleep (sleep? wasn't this a dream?), and he drifted for the first time in weeks without fear, trying to understand what it had told him. 


End file.
